ALLE
Darius's test results sit spread across my desk like damning evidence at a crime scene.
I've been staring at them for the past twenty minutes, my brain churning through the data while Ten hovers at my elbow, occasionally pointing at something and asking questions I only half-hear.
The tumor is massive. Probably been growing for years, wrapping itself around Darius's organs like a parasitic vine. But what really catches my attention—what makes my stomach twist into uncomfortable knots—is the composition.
"It's wolfsbane poisoning," I say out loud, more to myself than to Ten. "The tumor's basically a buildup of wolfsbane toxins that his body couldn't process. They crystallized, formed this mass."
Ten leans closer, his young face scrunched up in concentration. "How does someone even
